


076 - Cute High School Fic

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Teenage Van
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “could you please do a schoolboy van wherein reader is bestfriends with him but reader is starting to fall for van but couldnt do anything bc van is dead inlove with a popular girl??” // Not just set in high school though.





	076 - Cute High School Fic

2017

You had tried to wear the least attention-grabbing outfit possible. Blending into the crowd was the goal for the night, and you felt like you were doing a really fucking good job too. You watched Catfish play from your place against a wall. Somehow, despite the low lights and screaming fans, Benji's eyes clocked you. You stood up straight as you watched him recognise you and almost freeze. He signalled to someone off stage, and Larry quickly ran to him. Larry looked across the room at you with the same disbelief. Maybe if you had hidden in the crowd instead of the shadows they'd not have seen you. You turned and made your way to the exit as fast as you could.

You were almost a block away when you heard Larry's voice. You knew it, but it was deeper and older than when you last heard it. He was calling your name. He ran to catch up and he stopped in front of you, holding out his hand in a beg. "Y/N. Please. Don't go. Gimme a sec," he said. You didn't know what to do, but you gave him the few seconds to catch his breath. "Fuck. Hi!" he beamed then, and pulled you into a hug. It was familiar and you wanted to cry. You held onto him harder than you wanted to. He started to talk but didn't let you go. "What happened? Where did you go? You can't leave now. If Van finds out you were here... Come on, you have to come back." He broke the hug and took your hand. You pulled your arm away from him.

"I can’t. I just… I just wanted to see… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come," you said and take a step backwards.

"I'm not gonna lie to him, Y/N. I'll tell him you're in the city and he'll come looking for you. You know that."

You did. You knew that after years of no contact, after just dropping off the face of the earth, Van would probably burn the town to the ground to find you again.

 

2006 - 14 years old 

Larry was the first friend you made when you transferred schools at the age of fourteen. You had skipped a class because there was a boy who would make jokes about your freckles all lesson. You were sitting behind the bike shed feeling sorry for yourself when Larry appeared from around the corner. At first he thought you were lost and were going to snitch about him cutting class. When you held out a lighter as he searched for his missing one, he figured you out. Behind that shed was where you first met Van and Benji too. There were others that came and went, but for your first year at the school, they were the only people you really spoke to. 

You liked how easy it was to be around them. They weren't pretentious or assuming. They just swapped CDs and talked about starting a band. Van would share his smokes with you, and for each cigarette that sat between both your lips and his, you felt the crush you had on him grow bigger and bigger. You couldn't figure out why you liked him so much. You though Larry was cuter, and you had more in common with Benji. Maybe there was something in Van's effortless happiness that inspired you to enjoy life, or it could have been the lazy way he walked through the school with his stupid haircut and lack of school supplies. 

 

2007 - 15 years old

At the start of the next year, when you crush on Van had a chance to settle with time away from him over the break, Lilah transferred. She had beautiful bouncy dark brown ringlet curls that sat bundled on the top of her head. Her dark skin always shimmered and you wondered if she had glittery body lotion on every day or if she was just naturally really fucking magic. Even you were in awe of her beauty. The day she waltzed into classing singing The Smiths, Van was absolutely lost. He followed her around the yard trying to tell her about the band. He said he'd put her on the door list of their first ever show. He wrote her songs and slipped the lyrics onto her desk when the teacher wasn't looking. He would ask her friends to put in a good word for him. Lilah hardly noticed the attention. Not only was Van one boy in a sea of people clamouring to get to know her, he wasn't anywhere close to being in her league. She was top of the class and won a bunch of prestigious art awards. She was the teen dream. 

You had spent almost the entire year listening to Van switch from conversation about Catfish and the Bottlemen (you helped him figure out the name one night while you got high in his room for the first time) to Lilah and back again. You decided if you couldn't have Van, if you couldn't be the one to make him happy, then maybe you could try to make this Lilah thing work. At least then he could be dating someone so larger than life and probably a figment of everyone's collective imagination, that comparing yourself to her wouldn't be a logical thought exercise at all. 

You found her in the library at recess. You stood awkwardly next to the table. She looked up. 

"Hi, Y/N," she said. You hadn't ever heard your name spoken in her accent before. Her family were from Barbados, and despite living in the U.K. since she was a kid, she'd never lost her native inflection. You remembered she did a class presentation on Oistins, her original hometown. 

"Hi, Lilah. Um. My friend's band is playing at this little club in town tonight and I'm trying to get people to go. Fill out the crowd. I was just wondering if you'd want to maybe go?" 

"You asking me out on a date, Y/N?" she smiled. You laughed. 

"No, you're..." you went to say out of your league, but you realised explaining yourself stopped the joke from being a joke and would make it weird. "I'm just-"

"Asking for Ryan?" So she had noticed him. Hardly anyone called him Ryan and you wondered why she did. You nodded and she smiled gently and asked for the details. You wrote them down on a piece of scrap paper and left the library feeling both accomplished and crushed. 

 

...

 

There was a bigger crowd than you thought there would be. You peaked out at the crowd from side of stage. Van came and stood behind you. You could feel his guitar bump into your back. He only knew a few chords, but the other guitarist they had recruited was lead so it was alright. You had heard them play in practice a few times, and had an unshakable faith in their ability to perform well. 

You spotted Lilah, and couldn't believe she really showed. She was only sixteen, but she commanded the attention of the people around her. You and Van watched her follow another girl over to a couch against a wall. They sat close. You went to turn away, to disappear backstage and let Van go and say hi to her, but stopped. They were holding hands and maybe it meant nothing but maybe it meant something. Van lifted his guitar strap over his head and handed the instrument to Larry. You knew he was about to make his way to Lilah. You grabbed his arm. "Wait," you said. He looked at you confused. You stood on tippy toes to try to see Lilah better. There was something in the way she was moving around the girl, speaking to her. "I think... they're..." Then, the girl leant in and kissed Lilah and Lilah kissed back hard. You glanced over at Van, who was watching. His face dropped and his dreams of wooing his dream girl with his music were obliterated.

"Well that's a plot twist," Larry laughed from behind you both. "Sorry mate," he added and patted Van on the back. Van shrugged and continued to get ready.

The show was messy, but Van was a violent wreck of energy and passion and it was infectious. A mosh pit formed and people were throwing themselves up and around. After the show, you and Larry stood out the front as the doors opened. People came onto the street and you handed out home burnt copies of Catfish's badly recorded songs. You gave one to Lilah, and she seemed genuinely pleased. 

"They're quite good. Ryan is something, isn't he?" she said. You nodded and tried to make it seem like you hadn't thought too much about what Van was. "Just not my type of something," 

"Yeah. I think he's pretty gutted,"

"I'm sure he'll survive." 

He did, and you admired the way he stopped pursuing her. Someone made a joke about how he was just giving up when he could have tried to 'convert' her. "Don't think it works like that, mate," he said in a rarely heard serious tone. He still loved Lilah, and she continued to come to Catfish's shows, but his crush had respectfully died in the wake of meeting Lilah's girlfriend. 

 

...

 

Van's cousin was getting married and he had to wear a suit. He invited you to come, and you weren't sure if Mary had told him to or not. You wore a pale yellow dress and wrapped your hair around a flower crown. "Do you think we have time for a smoke?" he asked as he looked at himself in the mirror for the thirteenth time. He watched his reflection like it was a stranger. "Hate wearing these things." He pulled at the collar. 

"I like getting all dressed up," you replied checking the hallway for adult movement, then closing the door so you could quickly take hits from the pipe. 

"It's easy for you, though, innit. Like, you're all pretty and look good no matter what." 

You had literally never had a conversation about what Van saw when he looked at you. He'd never complimented anything more than your band shirts and new boots. Him calling you pretty seemed like an enormous step up from that. You didn't know what to say, so you said nothing and continued to pack the bowl with weed. Once high, you both stumbled out into the kitchen and let Mary and Bernie take awkward photos. 

You sat with between Mary and Van in the church and watched strangers get married. You focused on children who played the parts of flower girl and page boy. They were not following the script, and it was highly amusing. At the reception, there were three buffet tables. Van ate his body weight in party pies, and you ate an entire plateful of spinach and ricotta pastry triangles. You sat at the kids' table together and looked for an out. The music was bad, and the adults were getting drunk. Escape was imperative. 

When The Time Warp came on, middle-class white people did what they did best and scurried to the dancefloor to awkwardly move their hips about. Van took your hand and pulled you out of your seat. There was a horrifying moment where you thought he was going to make you dance. He had spotted a fire exit being used by the waiters to move food and plates in and out. You ran through it together and out onto the street. The reception was being held at a function hall in the middle of town, and it gave you a lot of options for where to go. However, you knew you needed to stay close to slip back in unnoticed in an hour or two.

You found a park close by. You sat on a swing and Van pushed you. When you got high enough that you almost did a full loop, he stopped pushing, saying it was dangerous and you'd get hurt. You shook your head and followed him into the tiny cubby house. You could both lie down, but your legs had to bend in the air and you had to rest your feet against the wall. Van lit a cigarette and you shared it.

"Thanks for coming today. Would have been going out of my mind without you here," he said.

"All good. Assumed Mary made you invite me,"

"No? I think they were happy about it though. They think you're a good influence,"

"Wow,"

"Yeah, I know," he laughed. He turned to look at you. "Do you think when you get married this is how you'll want it?"

"Oh my god no. This is… I don't know. It's somehow too much and not enough. You know?" He nodded.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mmmhmm,"

"Remember when Lilah came to our first show? You invited her didn't you?"

"Yeah,"

"How come?" You couldn't guess where the conversation was going or what he was really asking. You just shrugged in reply. "Because I kind of thought you maybe liked me, you know, but then you tried to hook me up with her, so…" It was a weird thing to say. He sat up and looked at you. You handed him the smoke. Something was happening. The mood was changing. He took off his suit jacket and hung it through the teeny tiny window. "Because, like, I did really like her. But it was like… the same as when you like someone famous or something you know? Whereas, like, I…" He took a sharp breath in and his eyes flicked up to yours. "I like like you. You know? I think I always have?" You sat up and could feel your face set in a confused frown.

"You like me?" You were seeking clarity and confirmation. He nodded and you couldn't help but smile. The curve of your lips was all he needed. He leant in and kissed you. "You couldn't have fucking said something earlier?" He laughed and kissed you again.

"It's alright. We got there." You made a groaning sound and pushed your head against his chest. He ran his fingers through your hair.

"I need a fucking drink. Do you think we can steal some wine from the wedding?" you said, dead serious. Van laughed.

"What am I going to do with you?"

 

2008/2009 - 16 years old to 17 years old

Since the wedding the year before you and Van had not left each other's side. When you had separate classes you would both ask your teachers if you could go borrow a book, then hide together between the library shelves. You'd hold hands and kiss and you'd make him read from your poetry books. Whenever you were cold he'd give you his jacket or hoodie, even if it meant he spent the rest of the day shivering in the miserable weather. Van started to buy two packs of cigarettes instead of one; just in case you had run out too. You sketched his name onto the covers of your books, and the teachers would roll their eyes whenever they collected them for marking. It was a joyful life and an easy love.

 

…

 

On the eve of his birthday you crawled through his bedroom window so that Mary and Bernie wouldn't know you were there. You had told your family you were with Lilah; who exchanged cover stories for weed. She was the best thing that ever happened to you and Van. You gave him gifts, then undressed in front of him for the first time. His hands were shaking the whole night, but when he touched you it felt warm and safe and good. The sex was messy, and awkward, and anti-climactic, but it got better over time.

 

…

 

Close to your second anniversary, you were sitting in the back of the van that was a joint purchase between Van, Benji, Larry, Bernie and Mary, and you. "Darlin'?" You hummed in reply. "Um… I don’t even know if we're, like, allowed to go 'cause we skip so much, but, I was just… Like, maybe… Uh, the school dance…"

"Are you asking if I'll be your date to the dance? Is that what is happening right now?" He nodded and made an awkward expression. You laughed and kissed him, nodding.

You found the perfect dress and Van wore a suit for the second time in his life. When you got too drunk from the spiked punch and secret flask, Van piggybacked you almost the whole way home. "What am I going to do with you, Y/N?" he kept saying, and you wondered if he remembered the wedding.

 

2010 - 18 years old 

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Van's voice shook.

"Mum says she needs to be closer to her family,"

"But that's so far away! We'll never see each other anymore."

You knew. You knew that as soon as your family got into the moving truck and left, you'd probably never see Van again. Your heart was breaking. All the time you spent pining for him, and the glorious few years of finally having him, it would eventuate as nothing. You wouldn't get to be a rockstar's girlfriend. You wouldn't get to have Van's children. You wouldn't get any of it and you were fucking gutted. He was thinking the same. He had fallen in love with you hard. You'd never seen him look so hurt and so sad. Tears were rolling down both your cheeks and his.

You curled up into his bed on the last night. You held him as he cried, and you had messy teenage sex for the last time. He said he needed to memorise what every inch of your skin looked like, just to tide him over until you'd see each other next. It was a hopeful thought rooted in a make believe world where things worked out. He said he would write letters. Neither of you were ever good at email. You said you'd write him back.

Three months later, as his letters were getting more frequent, you stopped replying all together. It hurt too much to play house in words, and you wanted him to move on and be okay and live the life he deserved. You could no longer be a part of that, and it was a treacherous thing to let yourself believe anything else.

 

2017 - turning 25

You let Larry lead you back to the club. Backstage he put you in a room alone and went back to side of stage. You could hear the rest of the set play out, then an eerie quiet filled the venue. As the minutes ticked on, you became increasingly nervous. You were seconds away from running again when you heard Van's voice through the hall. He was asking what was wrong, and whatever Larry was replying with wasn't enough to settle Van. He continued to protest until they were right at the door. Then, Larry opened it and Van went from looking at him to looking at you. He stopped dead in his tracks and his lips parted. Larry pushed Van into the room and closed the door, leaving you alone with Van.

There were no words that could even begin to articulate the depth and range of emotion you were feeling. Van's face told you he was feeling the same. You hesitated, then moved to stand in front of him. For a second you thought he was going to say something, or maybe hug you, but instead he fell to his knees hard. It made a cracking sound that you felt in your spine. Van wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled you into him, his face smashed into your stomach. He was shaking and holding you tight enough that it hurt. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Your hands operated without your intent, and suddenly you could feel your fingers running through Van's stage-wet hair.

He'd have questions. He'd want to know why you stopped writing. He'd want to know why you moved so much after the first time. Why you did not look for him when you grew up. Why you were non-existent on social media. If you still loved him liked you used to. They were valid questions and he more than deserved the answers.

"Van?" you whispered. He didn't respond, just kept shaking into you. "Come on, we'll sit."

You pulled him up and led him over to the small couch against the wall. It was an ugly green colour with unidentifiable stains and peeling material. You sat on your folded legs facing him. His head rolled back and he looked at you with tragedy in his eyes. You studied how his face had changed. His freckles were faded, almost invisible apart from a small patch across the top of his nose. His teeth were straighter and it seemed like it wasn't the result of puberty. His haircut was infinitely cooler than the one he had at fourteen, or even eighteen when you saw him last. His cheekbones seemed more pronounced. He was an adult. He'd grown up and you weren't there to see it happened and it killed you. His blue eyes were the exact same, though. He watched you and he was probably also noting all the ways you were different. His silence though was unnerving.

"Um… Okay…" You didn't know where to start.

"Why'd you stop writing? You just left me, Y/N," Van said and his voice was small. He sat up straighter.

"I know. I-"

"I fucking loved you. I was so in love with you,"

"I know and I loved you too, but I just…" How do you explain to someone why you broke their heart? "Um. When I moved, it was worse than I thought. I basically spent all my time with you and the guys, and when that was taken away I just kind of… lost it." That was an understatement. From the moment you lived without Van, you had started on a slow decline into poor mental health and bad life decisions. "It only took a couple of months to realise that you'd be alright without me. Catfish was killing it, I heard your songs on the radio. I just thought… I thought you deserved better than an absent girlfriend,"

"But when you finished school you could have come back. You were eighteen,"

"I wasn’t the same. I just. I don't know how to word it, but I really just thought it was better for you that way,"

"It fucking wasn't." You hadn't let yourself think too much about what those months were like for Van. You didn't let yourself imagine a scene of him crying into Larry's shoulder, or having Bernie tell him it would all be okay. Thinking about the inflicted pain would only serve to make your guilt worse. You didn't know how to reply to Van, so you didn't at all. He started to dry his hair with the towel still wrapped around his shoulders from when he walked off stage. "You don't have Facebook, or none of that,"

"No,"

"Then why are you here, Y/N? If you thought that everything would be fucking mint for me without you, why show up now seven fucking years later," he stood up and started to pace and talk with his hands. "Why would you rock up and be so fucking beautiful and try to make it seem like it was no big deal that you made me fall in love with you then you just fucking disappeared and act like it was all normal and…" he stopped ranting and looked at you. His eyes were glassy and tears were on the verge of slipping. Your face was already soaked. You could see it then, that he still loved you. He didn't know you, though. Not the almost twenty-five year old version of you. You didn't know him either, but you could feel it happening. There was a box in the back of your mind and it was locked up tight. It would rattle with life every time you heard one of their songs. It would growl in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep and you wondered where Van was in the big, wide world. It screamed and screamed and screamed whenever you pretended to love someone else. The box in the back of your mind unlocked as soon as Van fell to his knees in front of you, and you knew that you still loved him just as much as you did as a kid.

Why were you there and what did you want, that's what he was asking. The story you'd been telling yourself was that you just wanted to see how far they'd come, but that was so obviously a lie. You could have searched them on YouTube. You were there because part of you was missing and you hoped maybe you could get it back. It was presumptuous at best, and selfish at worst. Your future stood on a knife's edge.

"Fuck, Y/N," he said with a sigh. He moved and knelt on the ground in front of you. "What the fuck am I going to do with you?"


End file.
